


Five Dollar Bill

by PolarGrizz47



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M, random bathroom stall sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons isn’t quite sure who this kid thinks he is, but by now that isn’t the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Dollar Bill

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not even sorry. But Leon is my whore for POI. Like, seriously. I have one fic were he somehow winds up meeting Mr. Snow before his death (sobbing still) and then another threesome that I gave up one with Leon/Fusco/Carter. Ahhhh.

Simmons isn’t quite sure who this kid thinks he is, but by now that isn’t the problem.

Leon can’t possibly understand what lead him to rub up against the stern and stout looking man, lurking in the corner of the club like some parasite instead of just sneaking out the backdoor. But he did it, wove his way through the tight fitting crowd and sized up the heap of a man before slipping next to him and leaning against the wall. “You’re looking lonely tonight,” is his opening line, crisp and well used.

“Not interested.” Was the only gruff reply, blue eye gazing at him for the briefest of moments before plunging back into the crowd. Intent be damned, Leon did not give up that easily. The accountant sighed and rummaged around in his pocket before pulling out a five and forcefully slapping it into the guy’s hand.

“Go buy yourself a drink, loser.” He spits through clenched teeth, trying to sound careless as he takes the first two steps away. Patrick grabs him by the collar, yanking back on the slinky fabric until he’s pressed flush against the cop. Back to belly, ass to groin. Leon can’t contain his smirk, that trick _always_ got them in the bag.

-:-

The bathroom is large and very well lite, Leon hissing at the change and Simmons bites. “What’s your name?” The cop demands, pushing the accountant into the nearest stall and slamming the door, the lock makes a hollow clink. Leon groans and easily pushes up against the wall, granted the given space of the handicapped stall, resting one foot on the edge of the toilet for leverage as the disguised cop pins him there.

“Tell me yours first, _big guy_.” Leon purrs, resting his arms along the broad line of Simmons shoulders and slings his other leg across the small of his back.

The man growls out suddenly, “Patrick,” and leaves a wreckage of kisses down a pale neck, ripping at the shirt and Leon can faintly hear the seams breaking.

“Nice name, Pat.” He yips softly as the man grabs at his ass, urging him forth. “Leon.” He offers, pleased when blue eyes search over his body before becoming intent on dropping his pants.

-:-

Simmons fucks into Leon like a bull intent on breeding, snapping his hips forward and holding Leon’s body flat against the wall. The smaller man only is allowed minimal sounds, the cop’s hand molding over his face and creating a frantic chase for breathing. But Leon loves it, he loves the feeling of being controlled, dominated. And for once, his life wasn’t hanging by a thread.

There was sweat beading on both of them, too hot from the clingy clothes they bore and small cramped area between them. The accountant wraps one arm around Simmons neck, pulling him closer and knocking their foreheads together. Patrick growls out something and doesn’t stop the brutal movement, keen on making Leon gasp and groan into the cradle of his hand.

-:-

It all ends too quickly. Leon arching from the wall and letting his eyes roll back slightly as his load spills between them. Simmons bites at the air, letting out a primal snarl and burying himself deep, emptying his essence within the shivering accountant. He almost slips from the wall, his leg against the toilet giving out and his body just kinda flopping there against Patrick.

“You okay?” The cop pants next to his ear, more than happy to steady them both, pushing against the wall.

Leon grins, a sleepy but sultry grin and whispers, “ _Fantastic_. “Because he can feel the thick, warm fluid still trapped within and then some trickling out as the taller man pulls out once he’s soft enough. With lack of a better product, Simmons uses toilet paper to clean them up. Once he felt he was deemed presentable, all tucked back in and looking like the low life people thought him to be, was only when Simmons approached Leon. Lifting the accountant onto the toilet and lifting his leg, he gently swiped away at the white trail while Leon just kinda sat there, too tired and pleasurably hazy to give a damn.

Simmons steadies him while he pulls back on his pants, clearing his throat and buttoning up Leon’s jacket to hide the stains on his shirt. Patrick, unfortunately just kinda deals with the pearly droplets, smearing them with the remaining roll of paper before flushing the evidence and holding the stall open with a proud smirk. Leon raises a brow, but proceeds, trying to ignore the burn in his back from the awkward angle and sting in his leg from holding himself up for so long.

“So…” Simmons starts, shifting from foot to foot before the bathroom door, he asks, “You, uh, busy tonight?”

And Leon weighs his options before answering, “Nope,” in a nonchalant way, starting to feel the bass drum through his veins as the DJ pops a new record on, scratching the vinyl.


End file.
